


Cannon's Call

by tiggeryumyum



Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-10
Updated: 2015-11-10
Packaged: 2018-04-30 22:55:02
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,982
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5182700
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tiggeryumyum/pseuds/tiggeryumyum
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Eren is a boy of fire, and Jean is a boy of twigs.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Cannon's Call

"Is this normal?"

"He hasn't turned back!!" 

"He's just another mindless titan!!"

" _Is this normal??_ "

The panicked cadets are looking to Jean for answers through their building hysteria. They're not Jean's first team, but they're the first that's actually younger than him, even if only by a year. They're so green it hurts, newly graduated, on their first trip outside the walls, and Jean's been hotly aware of his responsibility to deliver them back, alive, this entire trip. 

"Sir, what do we do?"

"Keep riding, and act like soldiers instead of day-one trainees!" Jean barks over his shoulder. He glances again at the sight that has them so terrified. 

Eren is still in his titan form, towering over the field beside them, going utterly berserk. The sight is certainly scary, but not for the reason they think. 

Eren's been inside that titan for almost two hours. 

He's roaring and stomping and putting on a great show, but if anyone on his team was observant enough, they'd see Eren's got his hands in his own hair, shaking his head, roaring in pain, stumbling around the field aimlessly. He's moving like a wounded animal, obviously suffering. He's losing himself to the titan, and it hurts. He'll need to be forcibly extracted at this point, and soon. Someone is going to have to get close enough to do it.

Jean grips his reigns tighter, leans just slightly forward, and his horse senses his impatience, picking up the pace – they're riding parallel to Eren, rather than away, and his team continues to panic. He tunes them out, and prays they'll meet at least one other team – 

"Jean!" 

Thank god. Sasha. Sasha was with Mikasa, but – 

"Where's Mikasa??" Jean asks, bringing his horse alongside hers.

"With Captain Levi!" Sasha says, fear in her wide, frantic eyes. "But Armin's just a little ways north, I saw his flare – "

"No," Jean says, and Sasha grimaces, but doesn't argue. They both know Armin won't work, not with Eren this far gone. He's nothing but aggressive rage and pain once he reaches this stage, he'll attack anything that approaches… they need someone who can reasonably go up against Eren's titan form. Like Mikasa. Or Levi. 

Or Jean.

Jean slows to a stop and realizes the entire group – Sasha, her team, and his own – follows his lead. They sit, attentive, waiting for his orders. Jean breathes out once, then glances at Eren again, still roaring in agony, ripping into his own steaming face.

If they had time – there are other teams, they'll get here eventually – they could send a flare – get the new cadets to the wall first – 

But they don't. 

Three hours was the estimate Hanji gave, the no-return limit for Eren's transformation, but Jean thinks the squad leader must have been overestimating. He's sure of it, actually, sure that it's down to each minute now, each minute another piece of Eren getting lost to the titan. 

Jean sighs, accepting that as the primary concern, over his team, and Sasha's team, and his own safety. Getting Eren out, now.

No one here is going to be decent back up except Sasha, but they can't expect twenty freshly graduated cadets, with freshly pissed pants, to make it to the wall on their own. 

Fine.

"Sasha, get my team to the wall."

"What?! You're just going off by _yourself?!_ "

But Jean's already turned his horse around, riding off. Fuck. Stupid fucking. Eren. 

He's doing this for Humanity's Last Hope, to be clear. It's important to make that distinction because he's also pretty aware, as he looks up at the frenzy in that monster's face, that Humanity's Last Hope is going to try to crush him into the earth, which is easier to swallow than _Eren_ doing it. 

But an effort has to be made. It's what has to be done. Jean's the one that has to do it. 

Eren's noticed his approach – he goes still, watching Jean out the corner of his eye, like a cat tracking a mouse. 

Jean's fought Eren many times, he knows how Eren is bracing his feet, he knows Eren's about to charge, rush him, and knows now is the time to launch off his horse, or be pelted into the air with a kick. 

He directs his horse just slightly to the left, in range of a sturdy enough tree to ricochet up, get within distance of Eren's shoulder and then – he'll just play it by ear, he fucking guesses. 

"Hope you're happy," Jean mutters to the ghost who _better_ be watching this, and jumps up onto the saddle. 

He miscalculates. 

He launches off his horse as planned, flings himself around, gains good speed and momentum, right up into the sky, but from there his hooks go sailing out into empty, open air instead of Eren's shoulder. Jean blinks in confusion, his brain a few steps behind, trying to figure out what went wrong.

He spins, hoping to recover from the mistake, but a hand clamps around his body before he can. It's a brutal grip, crushing the air from his lungs, and Jean kicks uselessly as he's lifted up, to Eren's face. 

Eren's never eaten anyone. 

Jean stares at his mouth, the unnatural rows of teeth, wondering if that's about to change. He's large enough for Jean to hear the beginning of his snarl, like wind in a cave, echoing deep in Eren's chest before it actually makes it up to his throat. It's the sound of a predator, a warning.

"Hey! _Asshole!_ " Jean tries to shout but actually just wheezes with what little air he can get in his lungs. "You have enough running around like – oh... Thank you." 

Eren recognized him, relaxing his grip just that fast and Jean stumbles, trying to find purchase – Eren's cupping him in both of his hands, and like the growl, he can hear, now, the pain filled _cry_ before it makes it out his mouth. There's only hurt and pleading in his face, and Jean can see Eren there, clearly, overriding the titan. Eren asking for help. Eren trusting Jean to give it. 

It's so unexpected, for a moment Jean can only stare in surprise. 

Eren cries again, body shaking with pain. 

"A-alright!" Jean says, patting Eren's thumb, then climbing up his arm. The cry has become sharper, needier whimpers, like a wounded dog, and it's a hard sound to listen to. "Hey, I'm cutting you out! It'll be alright."

He makes it to Eren's shoulder, having to stop and brace himself when Eren tips his head back and roars again, loudly, in frustration and pain. He can feel Eren's muscles quivering beneath his feet, struggling not to move as Jean rushes to his neck. He bites the inside of his cheek, sends another thought to that ghost for luck, and he slices.

It's a mess in there. 

Jean's never actually done this part before, doesn't know far down he'll have to dig, and can't help wincing at the wet squish of flesh as he goes. 

Eren's clothes have survived intact, even this far into the process – Hanji will be interested to hear that – and thank god for it, because Jean's not sure how else he would've figured out which pink muscle belonged to Eren and which belonged to the titan. But there's the cloth, wrapped around the general torso shape, and Jean can grab it, feel for the familiar things that ought to be there; ribs, shoulders, neck; and yank as hard as he can.

" _Fuck_ ," Jean says once Eren's head breaks free, snapping back. It's disgusting. Only a small patch of hair remains on the base of his skull, there's no skin left, ripped straight down to his chest. Jean goes numb. 

This is not a living being. Jean was too late, Eren – 

No. Eren's eyes, bright green, the sole remainder of humanity against the nightmare of his fleshless face, roll forward, focusing on Jean. Conscious and aware, and _Eren._ Successfully retrieved. 

Jean's jaw wobbles once, but he recovers, and feels a goofy smile spread across his face. 

"Have to say, I've never seen you look better, Jaeger."

Eren makes some kind of moaning/groaning noise (he doesn't have a tongue), maybe looking annoyed, who can tell. 

"No, really, it's a drastic improvement," he says. Jean wants to hurry, yank the rest of Eren out and show him to the new recruits, see how scared they get _now_.

He's sort of laughing to himself at the idea, the stress and terror vanishing, replaced with giddy relief. He doesn't actually realize he's crying as well until Eren's stump of a hand wipes against Jean's cheek, with a questioning huff of air.

"… It was a pretty good scare," Jean says, wiping the tears away with his shoulder. He keeps pulling, trying to get Eren's legs free before the empty titan he's attached to topples over. 

Eren passes out with a weak, trembly little sigh, and his useless, disgusting, steaming body leans heavy against Jean's back as they ride toward the wall. Jean feels proud of himself, though; mission accomplished, see? The evidence is right there, in Eren himself. Eren needed his help, and he gave it, and it makes him – strangely happy, in a way he hasn't felt in a while, a simple, upbeat feeling, but _also_ like he might cry again, though he does not know why. 

~

It takes four whole days for Eren's body to get itself back together and wake up. Mikasa frets and hovers, while Sasha, Connie and Jean direct new cadets into Eren's room to get random supplies, then laugh at their screams. It stops working once Eren grows his nose back, though. 

It happens to be Jean keeping watch when Eren finally wakes up, in the middle of the night. He doesn't bother to look away from the window when he hears clumsy feet shuffling to the bathroom, but does look over in surprise when whoever it is joins him out in the living area after. 

Smiles when he realizes it's Eren.

"Four days this time," Jean says, before Eren can ask. "New record."

"That explains why everything aches," Eren moans, dropping listlessly onto the couch. 

Jean gets up from his post, heads for the kitchen. "Levi said to tell him as soon as you woke up, but you probably want to eat first – "

"Ugh, no," Eren says, holding his stomach. "I'll puke."

"Hanji says you should eat," Jean says, pausing in the doorway, eying the frying pan. "It'll make you feel better." He can make Eren an omelet, they've got the supplies – 

"If you're trying to be Mikasa, you kind of suck at it." It's a tease, a joke, but sort of true, too. 

Jean just sort of grunts in response, surprised at how hard that hit. Eren doesn't notice.

"Meh. 'M just gonna go back to bed," he says, getting up and wobbling off on still unsteady legs. "Basically still asleep anyway. 'Night, horseface." 

Eren is not being cruel.

Jean knows he is not being cruel, and this is a new found maturity inside himself, maybe even just discovered today. Maybe if this had happened yesterday, Jean would've shouted back an insult, lashing out at the unintentional hurt, and he would've ended up pummeling a few new steaming injuries into Eren's face.

Instead Jean watches him go, leaning against the door frame to the kitchen, and tries to figure out why he feels … disappointed? Hurt?

What else had he expected…?

It clicks, suddenly, in his mind, and Jean's face heats. 

Embarrassed, Jean is rougher than he has to be when he retakes his post, sitting down hard.

This is the thing: he remembers the way Eren had looked at him – as the titan, when he was in pain. Jean had thought – he had thought – when Eren had trusted him – when his mind was nothing but pain and rage – but he had seen past that, and trusted Jean to make it better, to take the pain away, he had thought that was – _something._

Jean hadn't realized how much that _something_ meant to him until he was looking straight at it, how it built some bright, hopeful structure in his chest, warm and exhilarating, but he realizes now is fragile and weak, made of twigs held together by a string. 

Because, he realizes, Eren trusting him isn't something. It isn't anything. 

Because Eren isn't a fucking coward. 

Eren isn't so cautious that he can only share parts of himself, slowly, in scared little parcels. He doesn't have pathetic little constructs in his chest, Eren is fire from the inside out.

Eren trusts Jean, because why not? He could easily walk away, annoyed but whole, if Jean betrayed that trust. Whereas that fragile, pathetic thing in Jean's chest has already been hopelessly trampled by Eren's feet as he walked back to bed, leaving Jean kneeling beside it, stunned, unable to put it back together.

Jean isn't strong Mikasa, who still stands, fearless, offering her heart over and over again, regardless of how many times Eren rejects it. Jean knows, just once would do it for him, just once would wreck him in a very real way.

Jean is sort of amazed; he's never thought of himself as especially strong but never saw the actual depth of his own pathetic weakness before. This quiet moment was _nothing_ , Eren won't even remember it, and it actually hurt him.

The door to Eren's room opens, and Eren hesitates a moment – 

Jean tenses, and waits. 

But Eren doesn't say anything. He just closes the door, and goes back to sleep. 

This is not the last piece of Jean that Eren will destroy. 

~

"He knows what he's doing."

"What?"

"Eren," Armin says, squatting down beside Jean. Across the camp, Eren kneels beside a wounded horse, blood up to his elbows, spare needle between his teeth, stitching up its wound. "He and his dad used to help farmers out every once and a while in Shiganshina."

Jean and Armin look at one another in blank confusion – then it hits. Jean realizes he had been staring, openly. As the blush spreads up his face, Armin realizes the stare was not out of concern.

They both look away at the same moment, Jean to meal in front of him, Armin coughing into his fist. 

"It's funny," Armin says after a long pause. 

"What is?"

Armin opens his mouth a few times, seems to think better of it. "Life, I guess."

Yeah, fucking hilarious. 

Jean's attention drifts back to Eren and he doesn't bother to hide it. It's the most interesting thing going on at camp tonight, most of the soldiers are watching, idly, as they eat or talk or get ready to settle in for the night. He suspects he's the only one in danger of getting half hard from seeing the unexpected dexterity and certainty in Eren's fingers, though, the concentration and focus in his eyes, somehow even more intense than usual. He didn't need Armin to tell him. It's obvious Eren knows what he's doing.

"I know you're worried about your little brother here, Jean," Eren says, suddenly looking up to give Jean a sharp, teasing grin around the needle. "But don't you worry. He's going to be just fine."

Jean gives Eren a rude gesture with his fingers. A few people chuckle. _Ha, ha, fun between friends._

"Are you going to tell him?" Armin asks, quietly.

"I'd rather," Jean stops himself from saying _die_ , because that is not true and unnecessarily dramatic. If it came down to death and confessing his feelings, he would confess his feelings. "Not."

Armin nods in understanding, he doesn't press.

Jean realizes, now, why he got on so well with Marco, and now with Armin, a trait they have in common. Both of them could and can see this weakness in Jean, but Armin instinctively respects it, and Marco wanted to keep it safe. Why doesn't he want to give it to Armin, then? What is the malfunctioning thing about Jean that compels him to direct it toward Eren, who wouldn't be able to identify it, probably destroy it without meaning to, and likely not even _want_ it to begin with? 

It's been a year or so since his realization, and Jean's made peace with it. It's not bad. It's not bad at all, and he does like Eren as a friend, it's a bit like hanging out with a very excited dog. He can make do with this.

He can make do with giving a vague excuse for privacy, stepping just past the camp, leaning against a tree and closing his eyes, tipping his head back, working his body, meeting a thrumming, hot need he doesn't quite understand the cause of. Just – Eren's intensity, his heat, his constant, consuming heat, combined with his nimble fingers and that strangely erotic needle, the blood, the exciting edge of danger there – makes him pant and squirm as he works himself, biting down on his lip as he comes.

He stares down at his hand, the mess he's made, and slowly catches his breath. 

This is fine. 

~

"It took just how many months to figure out how to harden his form in order to plug the hole in Maria?"

"The operation had multiple complex elements involved," Hanji says. 

"But this – ability, this titan voice ability?" Commander Welch is thin and hawkish, one of the many, many higher officers in the Military Police who have started prying in Survey Corps business now that it's become clear how much power they hold with Queen Historia. Welch requested this meeting under the pretense of sharing information between regiments, but it's obvious he had a much more specific agenda in mind. 

"We still have a lot to learn," Hanji says, the only Survey Corps officer even willing to speak anymore, Commander Erwin just stares, and Captain Levi is openly glaring. Jean and the rest of the soldiers are standing at the wall, Eren is the only one seated at the table with the officers, slumped heavily to his side, supremely unprofessional, uncomfortable with the direction this is taking. "It's very promising, but very unpredictable, as you can understand, and Eren is doing his best – "

"I've heard that this ability can be transferred," Commander Welch says. 

Eren has spoken before, about how it's just chance that he was the one given the coordinate, about how it was a sign of immaturity to think that he deserved it or did anything particularly special with it. 

These words have been rolling around in Jean's mind for a while, so when Commander Welch stares at Eren – cold, unimpressed – "Maybe it's an option we should look into exploring, if Jaeger is struggling. Any officer willing to cooperate can do what he does, a member of the Military Police with discipline and pedigree could do it better – "

Jean scoffs without thinking. 

Welch looks his direction, and Jean stiffens. "Sorry, sir."

"Something to share, cadet? Please, speak your mind." 

He's not intimidated by Welch, at all, and the request is sarcastic. A dare. One Welch doesn't expect Jean to meet, one that Erwin, Levi and Hanji are all encouraging him to do, raising their eyebrows in interest. 

Jean clears his throat and rolls his shoulders back. Alright. 

"I was about to join the Military Police," Jean says. "And if I had gotten that power in Trost, like Eren did, I would've just tried to escape. That's all I wanted to do, and I wasn't the only one. That's what everyone stuck there would've done… There's only one person who would've attempted to systematically clear titans out of the district on pure instinct."

Welch smiles, wan and condescending. He thinks Jean is an idiot. "I have heard that Jaeger is tenacious, and it's admirable, however – "

"I wouldn't have been able to complete the missions Eren did with the power afterward, either. Not many people would, especially not the soldiers in the MP. This ability has been in humanity's hands for a century, in the hands of very disciplined people, and we only started calling it Humanity's Last Hope once Eren started using it," Jean says. "That's not a coincidence."

A beat of silence. He can feel Eren's gaze on him, but refuses to look away from Welch, who glares furiously at Erwin.

"Sir," Jean adds.

"Thank you for your candor, Kirstein," Erwin is saying. They're dismissed, everyone except Eren, and Connie gives him a friendly elbow to the side once they make it out into the hallway.

"Just can't keep your big mouth shut, can you?" Connie says, but he's smiling. 

They spend the rest of the day working on boring, monotonous tasks with the MPs, only relieved in the early afternoon, when Welch's meeting ends.

Eren catches up with Jean after they've gotten their supplies together, mounted their horses and started the ride back to their own headquarters, tromping loudly over the MPs drawbridge.

"Jean. Did you mean that?" Eren asks. "Back there?"

"Do you think I was just saying it to be _nice?_ " 

Eren smiles. Beams, more like, his entire face is in it. "I knew you did. People say things… " Eren says, suddenly awkward. "But you – you mean it when you say it."

"… I try."

Eren grins again, shoves Jean's shoulder; rough, joyous gratitude. It's almost identical to what Connie did earlier, but it reaches deeper, Jean's very soul laps it up, warmed and thrilled by it. Eren hurries off to the front, embarrassed himself by the open emotion. It makes Jean blush as he glances back down at his reigns.

That night, there's a surprise ceremony where Jean is promoted to Squad Leader, the youngest in Survey Corps history, and he's happy about it, of course, but it is not the reason why he smiles into his pillow before going to bed. 

~

"How bad is it?"

Armin can't even answer for a moment, just staring in open distress. Finally, "I… got flashbacks to when you tried to hit on Mikasa by complimenting her hair."

Jean covers his eyes, groaning quietly. Last night was his first meeting with his first official team, a casual celebration, a chance to make a good impression... and Jean gets drunk enough to remind Armin of when he was just barely twelve years old. 

Today Jean and his team are heading out, and he is about to debrief them on the mission. These men and women are nothing like the teams Jean's took charge of before, they're veterans, older than Jean by decades. Jean's sure they had misgivings about being put on his team from the start, let alone after his blushing, stammering, childish performance last night. 

It had just taken him off guard, Eren had been so, so affectionate and friendly, and even with this fallout, Jean can't help the pleasant squirm at the memory. Eren is so intense, in everything he does, and when that thing is warm and kind, it's enough to make anyone giggle. Well, Jean, at least. Apparently. And he knows it's done a pretty good number on his chance to be taken seriously by his team.

"Jean, you're – not exactly subtle about the people you like, you know," Armin says. "And that was fine before, around us, we could pretend not to see it, but you're going to have to figure out how to get control of yourself in front of your team."

"Kind of figured that out already, but hearing it out loud is humiliating enough to do the job, thanks," Jean mutters. "Alright. Go in ahead of me. It won't help anything if it looks like I was getting advice from you."

He knows Armin won't take offense; Armin is very well aware that he looks especially young and soft, and how that is the absolute last thing Jean should associate himself with right now.

"Good luck," Armin offers, weakly.

Jean hears the ruckus as soon as Armin opens the door. They're rowdy in there, laughing and loud, nothing like the calm respect Erwin and Levi have before their debriefings. 

Jean waits forty seconds, takes a breath, and pushes the door open. It _slams_ against the wall, and Jean winces internally. He hopes they won't think that was intentional, what an amateur attempt for attention that would be. The team salutes, but it's lazy. Some of them aren't even looking to the front. A group in the back is still talking.

" _Attention!_ " he says. It's firm, but echoes strangely, hollow, in the room. Doesn't have enough weight. He can't bellow like Erwin, he realizes. He'll just sound like a yapping dog. Most of the soldiers maintain their salutes, a few tightening their forms – but he also spots amused smiles… making a show about that would only make it worse. The group in the corner is still talking to one another quietly. Jean grits his teeth and keeps going. "Today we're organizing the rear guard sentry for the formation. This should be an easy position for the first half of the expedition, but the riskiest on the return. We going to keep our focus on Captain Levi's team in the front center, which is where Eren Jaeger will be placed. This means – "

"… 'course he wants to protect his little boyfriend." There's a badly suppressed bark of laughter, coming from that group in the corner. 

Jean is shorter than nearly everyone in his new team, and he feels this fact like a nasty sting as he walks through them, toward the back. It's like he's traveling through a forest, with how they rise above him. 

"You're dismissed."

"Excuse me, _sir_?" The man asks, finally looking at Jean for the first time. The _sir_ is mocking.

"You're dismissed," Jean repeats. "Do you really need me to elaborate why?"

"I don't think you know who I – "

"I know who you are," Jean says. "Odell Keller. Fifteen kills. Ten assists. A great record, but it's pretty clear that you would be a liability on my team without coaching, and I don't have the time to train anyone on how to pay attention right now." Jean starts drifting back toward the front. "Captain Levi is going to have adequate sentry on today's mission even if I'm doing it myself, alone. I'm not interested in soldiers that are too scared, too distracted, or too amused to follow my orders. If that sounds like you, you're dismissed, along with Mr. Keller," Jean nods his chin toward the shell-shocked man in the back row. "Goodbye, Mr. Keller. Enjoy the rest of your day."

Keller waits a moment, then salutes – a proper, respectful salute – and leaves. No one else does. The amusement and the weak salutes are gone. 

Jean takes a deep breath, refuses to let the relief show in his face, and starts over. 

"Today," he says. "We're going to be in the rear guard for Captain Levi… " 

~

"You haven't looked me in the eye once in the past five meetings, Kirstein," Eren says. 

"Sorry if I need a break from your ugly face." 

For the record, Eren is twenty-three, and confident, and gorgeous. Eren knows it, Jean knows it, the pigeons on the wall know it, the titans inside the wall probably know it, too. He makes teenagers from the village giggle whenever he walks by, cadets notoriously seek out his attention, and he gets confessions of love at nearly every graduation ceremony. 

Eren just cocks his head to the side. "Hiding something?" 

"Like what?" Jean says, amused, curious to see what Eren might come up with. 

"… I thought you might be angry," Eren says, obviously reconsidering that at Jean's grin. "What is it, then?"

"Maybe I just have better things to look at."

He fucking doesn't. At the moment he's pretending to be busy with a report on improving latrine maintenance from one of his team leads, but he fiddles impatiently with the corner as though it is very important, hoping for Eren to take the hint and leave.

Eren sits down across from him properly.

"Come on. You're freaking me out," Eren says. He looks worried and Jean realizes he really is, he's nervous there's something actually wrong.

"It's nothing," Jean lies. "I didn't realize I was doing it," Jean lies. "I'll make sure to stare at you at least five minutes straight at the start of every meeting from now on, sound good?"

"Not consecutive," Eren says, happy to go along with the joke. "That's how rumors get started."

"Mm," Jean says, lips a thin, miserable line. Too close to the mark. How had he set himself up for that? 

If Eren was Armin, that would've been it, his tone would've given it away. If Eren was remotely observant or perceptive, really, he would've realized Jean's problem countless times over the past seven years. But he's not, so Jean's safe. He's become inordinately sloppy, though, he's not surprised Eren noticed something was amiss. 

The _newest_ version of the problem is from a commander's retirement party last month. They were all invited, Eren had been in a really great fucking mood, and is a tactile person by nature. Being friends with him involves a lot of shoulder grabbing, shoving, occasional hugs, occasional shakes. In this case, he thought it would be fun to swing Sasha around in a short little dance. When she'd spun away into Connie's arms, Eren had turned to Jean – nothing serious, nothing real – and put his hand on the small of Jean's back, wanting to spin him for a bit, too. Jean had immediately stiffened, and Eren had taken the hint, dropped his arm, letting the moment pass, moving on to shuffle and swing with Armin. 

Jean squirms now, remembering the heat of Eren's hand on his back.

"Like that."

"What?"

"That's what you've been doing – you've been looking down, like that," Eren says, pointing to the left, and down, where Jean's gaze had dropped.

"That makes sense, then," Jean says. "That's what I do when I'm thinking about nosy fucking idiots."

Eren frowns. He's thinking, and Jean's amused again. Eren is not stupid, really, he just… doesn't observe what he doesn't care about, and he doesn't care about a whole heck of a lot. If an abnormal titan had a crush on him, yeah, Eren would probably be able to put those pieces together pretty fast. But just boring human Jean, no. Sometimes he's not even sure if Eren ever picked up on the amorous edge to Mikasa's attentions. 

So it's a surprise when Eren says, "You're thinking about me?"

"I was being glib, Jaeger," Jean says. "I swear, I'll stop."

"Stop what?"

"Avoiding you – " Jean freezes, mouth snapping shut. Eren smiles, pleased with himself. _Oh, how the fuck..._ "Not _avoiding_ – "

"No, you said it, you meant it. I knew it, anyway. What is going on?"

Jean combs his mind for any excuse, but comes up miserably blank. "I … "

"I never thought I'd have to convince _Jean Kirstein_ to tell me when I did something to piss him off."

"You didn't," Jean says. "We'll talk about this later, I'm busy – "

Eren snatches the report from where it sits on the table before Jean can stop him. He reads the top, and raises an eyebrow.

"Busy trying to come up with an excuse?"

Jean grits his teeth, feeling the heat on the back of his neck, spreading to his face. He's in a tailspin, doesn't know how to correct it – if he runs will Eren chase him? Probably. 

"Cut the shit, Jean." He sounds hurt.

Jean swallows, trying to come up with – some version of the truth that he can say. "You're… a hard person for me to be around. Sometimes."

"Like how?"

"Like – " _Like I'm fucking terrified of you, what I turn into because of you. Like I can board myself up and you'll just knock it all down with one fucking look, with one fucking kind or cruel word whenever you want. Like the risk is just too high, and I know it, but I can't stop, it's been over five fucking years and I can't stop, I've tried –_

"You're blushing."

"Thanks, I hadn't noticed," Jean says, staring off to the side. Something in the pose, in Jean's expression, must call back to the multiple cadets who have also acted like morons in front of Eren, ripping their chests open and presenting their hearts for him, because the worry in Eren's expression fades. He smiles, slowly, like he just solved a really funny riddle. 

"… You've got a crush on me."

The horror rises, nauseating in its strength. "Shut up, Jaeger," he says, quietly. Jean's heart is racing in fear, in disbelief, and he hopes it does not show on his face. If Eren really _knew_ the actual extent of it, if he could actually _see_ the mess he could make of Jean – 

" _Wow_ ," Eren says, still smiling. 

Jean sneers, grabs the report from Eren and storms off. 

He's too old for this kind of behavior, this is what teenagers do, but Jean can't help it, he moves faster and faster until he's practically running down the halls. Fuck. How did that just happen? How did he let it escalate so quickly? 

He'll transfer. He'll transfer to – to the Garrison. No, to the church, he'll take up seminary and that way he can make Eren's status as a hell-beast official. 

Eren doesn't chase after him, and it's honestly a relief. He doesn't want the hear what Eren will say. He's still numb and reeling from _'wow.'_ What would other words do to him? 

Maybe he'll just find a hole. Just. A hole in the ground. It doesn't even have to be very deep, just enough for him to curl up in and imagine the embarrassment and horror can't reach him there. 

But eventually he'll have to crawl out of the hole. 

Eventually he has to see Eren again. Both their lives are hopelessly entrenched with their duties, and therefore with each other. It's only a matter of time.

~

It happens on a normal, stupid Wednesday. Jean's on his way back from a debriefing with the commander when Eren spots him from across the front hall, and immediately crosses it. Jean sees him coming, spins on his heel and starts going east, as quickly as possible. They traverse the headquarters in this way, the most ridiculous game of cat and mouse ever, both refusing to run, or call out, or admit what they're doing.

Eren catches up when Jean turns down the wrong hallway and ends up in the abandoned courtyard. He's cornered, no exits. 

"Shut up."

"I didn't say any – "

"Shut up," Jean says, again. "Don't."

Of course Eren doesn't listen. He smiles all big and happy, approaching Jean and he wishes he had something to ward Eren off, keep him at bay. 

"I just wanted to say that – if you're interested," Eren says. "I'm not _not_ interested."

"For fuck's sake," Jean hisses, closing his eyes as tight as he can, trying to disappear into the earth. This is worse than rejection. Eren's tone is flirty and fun; he's blossomed into himself, he doesn't have a lot of it, but the sex he does have is casual, the partners he has are casual, he doesn't know what he's saying, or what this is to Jean. 

Eren steps into his personal space, presses his hand on the small of Jean's back again. This time he doesn't pull back when Jean stiffens, he takes a step even closer, pressing them together. 

Jean lifts his chin politely, averting his gaze up to the clear blue sky until this entire thing is over. Eren is warm. And real. And everything he wants. 

"… You're shaking?"

"I told you to shut up," Jean snaps. It's already started, Eren's just going to rip him apart. Not even out of maliciousness. Just… wild, passionate thoughtlessness.

"Jean?" Eren says. Jean finally looks down, and Eren's eyes widen in surprise. "You – you're crying?" 

Jean doesn't know what to say. He watches the intensity in Eren's stare grow, until he's looking at Jean with everything he's got in him, his clenched-fist, screeching beast, shouting into the darkness, kicking and scratching and fighting, always _fighting_ mania. 

"You really want this," he realizes.

Jean just grits his teeth, looking to the side. Eren doesn't brush the tears from Jean's cheeks as much as pluck them away, seeming unsettled by their presence, wanting them out of the way so they can get down to business. 

"Like you _really_ ," Eren repeats. The intensity grows, he's pushing up against Jean harder, until he bumps against the courtyard wall. " _Really_ want this – "

"Don't let it go to your head."

He's in it. He's not getting out, so he might as well – he's not sure which one of them traveled the distance between their lips, it might have been mutual. They've developed an eerie sort of synchrony in battle and this could be an extension of that, maybe. 

Whatever it is, they both want to kiss, so they kiss, and Jean moans into it, feeling more tears falling down his face. Eren pulls back just a little in response, making the kiss breathy and wet, then kissing him _harder_ , _hungrier_. 

It's exactly what Jean knew it would be. 

He'd like to say otherwise, that he was surprised by the passion there, but he's not, he's immediately swept into it, Eren's hands grabbing at his body, the teeth and the greedy tongue. Eren wants to consume him, and Jean knew he would, and it feels greedy to want this. No one should want all of this, it's just too much. But he does, and he wants to be left blind from it. _It's happening, it's real, oh god_ , he's tasting Eren and feeling him, it's _real_ , and even though the rational part of his mind is panicking, wailing in distress, everything else in Jean is singing. _Finally_.

"Eren," Jean pants, quietly, once his lips are freed.

"Oh fuck," Eren breathes, renewing his grip on Jean, pressing against him with deliberate closeness now, sliding his leg between Jean's. It's better, it makes Jean moan, the pressure of Eren's thigh is all it takes to get Jean half hard, and Eren responds in kind. He rolls his hips against Jean's, not kissing, just breathing against his mouth. He bites down on Jean's bottom lip, then licks in apology, but Jean doesn't buy it, cause he repeats the process again two seconds later.

"You don't know," Jean says, as they hump through their clothes, it should be frustrating but it's actually satisfying, finding a matching rhythm that feeds into each other instinctively. His hands are on Eren's collar, clinging hard to the fabric there. 

"You feel so _good_ ," Eren says. 

"You don't fucking know," Jean shakes his head, two completely different conversations, but their bodies are effortlessly in sync, grinding and rocking together. They should stop, they're not teenagers, they're respected officers who really should not be seen doing this or dealing with the aftermath, but Jean's body just keeps pushing up into the delicious pleasure of Eren's weight, warm and solid, the teasing shape of Eren's hardness. He wants to feel it, the whole of it, the flesh of it. 

He stares up at that sky again, condemning himself, and he knows it, as he goes for Eren's belts. 

Eren watches, stunned, as Jean pulls Eren out, they both stare down at the sight of Jean's hands wrapped around Eren's thick, impressive dick. It's enough to make Jean's breath catch. _Finally_. The weight of it, the heat of it, sends a pleasant burn through his entire body, hitting hard in his crotch, and he puts that energy into the movements of his hands, savoring this moment – running his hands up and down the firm length in time, and Eren goes that mix of lax/tense that any man does when he's cock is handled especially well, everything in him coiling in his crotch, everything else going weak. He drops forward, bracing himself against the wall, mouth slack and humping his encouragement up into Jean's hands.

Jean stares. This is what Eren looks like aroused. _Finally, oh, oh finally_. This is the blood that rushes to his ears, then his cheeks, and that's the way his eyes pinch shut. It's a truly heady feeling, being the cause of it, knowing his fingers, his palms, his touch, is bringing down this restless beast, making that unending passion trip over its own feet, at least for a moment. 

He feels a strange sense of calm settle over him as he watches Eren tip over the edge – but right there, right when he's about to come, the movements of his hips going especially jerky and demanding, his eyes fly open. Jean's breath stutters in his chest, stunned, entire body stilling as Eren surges forward, humping his climax into Jean's hip and useless hands, kissing him. Groaning into the kiss and _grinding_ against him. 

Oh god. Jean's going to come from this, maybe from – from Eren moaning his _name_.

" _Jean_ – so good, that was so good, oh," Eren pants, eyes slipping shut again, thank god. 

Jean closes his own eyes, resting his head against Eren's hair. Thick, and soft, and he can feel the impossible heat of his head below that. He strokes down the back of Eren's neck as he shudders, slowly coming back to himself.

Jean is greedy with this, wanting to hold it close as long as he can have it, but he knows it has to stop, that they're already crossing lines. Pulling away from Eren, relaxed and spent as he is, is going to be a literal, physical pain, but he can survive it, and if he ends it here, it might not even be anything. He might be able to move on. 

Of course, that's when Eren's hot, large palm grabs between Jean's legs. 

"I'm fine!" Jean squawks, pushing at Eren's shoulders, trying to wiggling along the wall to escape. Eren follows though, and it makes his escape difficult. Eren's eyes have never been brighter, flushed, pleasantly content. He clearly wants to share that contentedness with Jean. 

"You're so hard – come on," Eren says, breathless. "I can make you feel good, too, come on – "

"I'm fine," he repeats. 

"Christ, Jean," Eren laughs, licking the near-dry tear tracks up Jean's cheek. Eren is rubbing between Jean's legs with one hand, working at the buttons and belts with the other, and it's not long before it's there, out, the sensitive skin of his dick exposed between them, to Eren's hot, intense gaze. He literally licks his lips. Jean moans. It sounds fearful.

"Eren, fucking. Please," he says.

"Please what, Jean?" Eren says, stepping in, pressing Jean's erection between them. It's not teasing, he is genuinely curious and concerned. His voice is all calming, soothing tones, the thing you use on startled animals. "I want to return the favor, but you're acting like I'm gonna – cut it off or something. I'm not going to hurt you."

"Bullshit," Jean says it without thinking. 

Eren doesn't pay attention to what he doesn't care about. But he gives everything he has to what he _does_ , and apparently Jean just made the list. He translates the underscore of Jean's terrified, wet hiss in seconds:

"… You love me," Eren says, immediately proving Jean right. He's ripping apart each of Jean's layers, each defense, one at a time, might as well be flinging it over his shoulder as he does, considering what he finds underneath that. It's hard to be the center of Eren's full focus, even when he's got all defenses up; he feels raw and exposed, literally scared to meet Eren's gaze. 

"Jean?"

Jean glances up. They've locked eyes when Eren starts moving, rocking forward, and Eren is watching the reaction hungrily – Jean moans, and bites his lip, trying not to sob. He's so conflicted he's dizzy. He feels like he just put everything valuable he has in the hands of a toddler, the mouth of a dog. Eren thrusts against him again.

"How long?" Eren asks, sounding awed, stunned. Impressed.

"… Years."

Eren's eyes go wide, he drops his head down onto Jean's shoulder and _shudders_. "Fuck," he says, and tips his head back up, staring again at Jean's face. "I think – maybe me, too," he says, and Jean can see him trying the thought out in his mind. Seeing if it fits. 

"Shut up," Jean forces out. This is worse than rejection, worse than the flirty, oblivious fun. He can't possibly think he feels anything like Jean does, years and years and years of conflicted, terrified emotion – 

"But I – I want to, I want to really – really bad, you're beautiful, Jean, look at how you – how you move when I touch – you," Eren's eyes travel up Jean's body to his face with that same hunger. "I want you, I want to – to do everything."

It occurs to Jean that if Eren is a boy of fire – and he is, there's no doubt about it – that fire feeds on this, the dried out twigs, the things fragile and weak enough to snap underfoot. It just makes it stronger. 

" _Eren –_ " 

" _Jean_ ," Eren says, and Jean swears he can literally see the flames in Eren's eyes grow. 

Jean's so close, and each brush of Eren's body, his scent and his stare and his breathless arousal is bringing him closer. Jean bites his lip, then Eren's there, pressing his lips against Jean's, and he definitely feels the flames in Eren's mouth, hot and consuming and unfuckingreal. He surrenders into that heat when he comes, sobbing into it, making a mess into Eren's hand as he clings to Eren's shoulders. 

~

"That was so good," Eren says. It's about the fourteenth time he's said it. He seems dazed, punch drunk. They're sitting on the ground of the courtyard.

Jean says nothing. He's nothing but a ball of useless, exposed nerves. Shivering in the air. He wants to crawl away, make it back to his quarters, but there's really nowhere to run now. Nothing can fix this. What's done is done.

"I guess it's better like that," Eren says. "When two people love each other."

Jesus fucking Christ. "You can't just – decide that you love me," Jean says.

"Yeah? What'd you do? Climb up a mountain and talk to a wiseman?" 

Jean grits his teeth. Jean always imagined Eren would be less intense after sex, it just seemed like he'd have to be, eventually he'd have to burn out. But if anything he looks more energized than ever, resting but only to process his extreme contentedness, a fox that's gotten into the hen house, satisfied and sated. 

"C'mere," Eren says, reaching out to Jean with both hands, tugging him closer before Jean really has any choice. He leans into it. He was always going to lean into it, as soon as Eren reached for him. Fuck. He's so – so fucked. Eren kisses him again but seems more interested in general closeness, nuzzling and touching. Jean raises a hand in return, but can only bring himself to touch Eren's shoulder, gripping tight. "Yeah," Eren decides, nodding. The final word: he's decided. He loves Jean. 

Then again. Eren isn't a coward. He trusts Jean, because why not? And maybe – maybe he loves with that same reckless bravery. 

Jean was never afraid of burning – he was afraid of the aftermath, of being left a hollowed out husk, a pale, shivering flake of ash.

It never occurred to him that he could keep it, stay in the fire, blazing forever, but as Eren runs his thumb thoughtlessly against Jean's cheek, gathers the last of his tears and brings it to his mouth, sucking it dry, he's consumed.

If this is all Eren needs, Jean can give it. Jean can feed this fire, and maybe he'll never feel the cold again.

**Author's Note:**

> [This is the song](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=KxZ9_XlL19E) for this fic even though the theme is fire instead of a storm.
> 
> Also I have a tumblr! [here](http://tiggeryumyumm.tumblr.com)


End file.
